


synapse to synapse

by orphan_account



Category: DreamSMP, DreamSMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (kinda), Anarchist Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, DSMP, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dream Smp, Dream Team SMP - Freeform, Found Family, Gen, George is also supportive, Kinda..., Multiple chapters, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Scarification, Scars, Supportive Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Swords, You wanna know how I got these scars?, again. Kinda., dadza at some point i swear on it, dream will go through Pain. I don’t care., kinda? i might go into detail..., no couples unless they’re canon in the dsmp lol, techno is kind of an assassin, this is not rpf i hate ao3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The history of how Dream became who he is today. The monster of the Dream SMP, the godlike figure who hurts and destroys and manipulates with no remorse. He once was a human too, he once was gentle. Kind. And, maybe, just maybe, he still is.OrDream Joker (2019) moment lolza /hj
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), please don’t ship anyone God. No shipping unless it’s canon in the lore
Kudos: 25





	synapse to synapse

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT RPF!!! i need to clarify that i don’t write RPF, if you do, okay, but i don’t! this story is based on my headcanon of how dream become the way he is !! there will also be some canon in here (?) if i get to it, or have a way to add it in and/or if i remember it. /hj
> 
> this was also based off of a poem i wrote after having nightmares nearly every night for a weak

Dream casts his fishing rod into the ocean. 

“I keep having nightmares where someone dies.” 

Sapnap and George look at Dream, puzzled. The words that escape his lips are alarming. Unexpected. There was no mention of dreams within the past week, hell, the past  _ hour _ they’d been together. 

“What do you mean nightmares where someone dies? People die all the time.”

“No, not in Dream SMP or wherever the hell. Just anyone. Anywhere…” His voice trails as he stares at the float. It bobs up and down majestically. It is entrancing.

“I have nightmares within nightmares and I wake up and it happens again. A dream within a dream—”

Sapnap raises his finger knowingly, giving George a worried look. Then looking back at Dream. “Yeah, I think they’re called false awakenings… or something like that.”

Dream pays no mind to what Sapnap says, ignoring him completely. George sees his eyes are completely fixated on the fishing float. Enthralled.

“I stand there, shirt covered in blood. Covered. Covered. A white button up splattered with dark red blood. It’s so unbearably realistic, I think it’s real. I always think it’s real. I’ve never had a good imagination, so it’s weird. They don’t scare me, though. It’s just unsettling. Very, very unsettling.”

There’s a beat of silence. No one says a word. It’s nearly like none of them are breathing. Dream continues,

“Someone is shot. Someone is stabbed. Someone is shot. Someone is stabbed. Someone is axed. Someone is shot, someone is stabbed, and someone is axed… I can’t help but think it’s a premonition.”

Sapnap and George nod at each other, Dream can see it in his peripheral vision. 

“Well,” Sapnap coughs, taking a moment to form his words. “It’s probably nothing, you know. Your mind plays tricks on you.”

“No. This is different. I don't know how but I just–” he throws down the fishing rod, twisting to face them. “It’s different. I know it is.”

“But, that makes no sense!” George childishly stumbles over his words. “You can’t  _ know _ that. You can’t!” A laugh nearly escapes him.

Dream gives him a glare. Sharper than his axe. It’s terrifying. Something has changed.

“I do.”

—

When Dream gets his first scar, he knows he was right. It’s long, pink, and caused by an axe. An Axe.

The day he got it, he was cheert. It felt normal… almost. But there was something in the air, an aura, a mist that surrounded him and weighed him down (but only a bit).

“Do you feel that?” He’d asked Sapnap, who had tilted his head in confusion.

“No. Feel what?” 

They were sat in the grass. Alone. Just them. George was off somewhere hunting. 

“There’s something… kind of  _ weird  _ in the air. I don’t know.”

A smile crept across his face. “Dude! Relax, nothing is wrong. You’re just paranoid again.”

And he was right to be. 

He was ambushed—though that’s not the proper word. One person, appearing from the woods near him moments after Sapnap went to retrieve George, draped in a red cape and the skull of what appeared to be a pig. They held a glimmering axe, and ran straight for Dream.

“What the hell?” He yelled, unsheathing his sword. “What do you want from me? Who are you?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” The voice was low, gritty, and the person it belonged to—who he later found out took on the nom de guerre “Technoblade”—was inches from him.

Techno swung his axe, hitting Dream’s right arm. He yelped 

“No, tell me! What do you want from me?” 

He saw a flash of bright red light from below Techno’s pig skull. 

Then he snarled.

“Your life.”

The gleaming axe swung again, almost beautifully. In a sadly poetic way, Dream was prepared to die. By the hand of this masked man with a long pink braid that moved like the ocean, and his bewitchingly treacherous axe. 

It hit him in his right eye. 

Dream let out a scream of pain, he held his face in his hands tightly, screaming obscenities. He could barely see, blood covered his injured right eye and quickly filled his left. He swung his sword madly, naively, knowing it would do nothing. 

He heard Techno laugh, roaring. Then he heard him lift his axe again; it cut the air behind it. It was haunting. 

And then, by the grace of some god, he heard Sapnap yelling, and then George… and shortly thereafter, the sound of arrows hitting the ground and fabric. The sound of footsteps moving fast away from him clouded his head. 

“Dream?” George screamed. He could feel the pain in his voice… it stopped his own momentarily.

“George?” He called back, wearily. He stabbed his sword into the grass to pick himself up, his right arm and eye gushed sweet-smelling blood. He could taste it, it welled in his mouth and he had no choice but to swallow.

“Dream, you idiot. Don’t swallow blood, it’ll make you sick. Spit it out. Now.” George had been talented in medical care at this point, mainly due to all the times the three of them would fight jokingly and then hurt each other fairly badly. “Sapnap! Get me some gauzes, bandages, and water, okay?” He barked orders how Dream imagined they would do in war. 

“Aye aye, captain.” Sapnap’s voice faded as he ran away, but he came back as quickly as he left.

George cleaned his facial wound, with Sapnap cleaning his arm. 

He felt weak, weaker than he’d ever felt before. He could not compare this pain mixed with faintness to anything except what he had imagined dying felt like, and he wished he  _ had _ died in that moment.

George’s voice woke him from his thoughts, soft. Caring. “Dream? What happened?”

By now, Dream knew he would never see out of his right eye again. That much was obvious. 

“Some guy,” he managed, “he came out of the fucking  _ forest _ , and, and, you saw right? The pig skull mask? He’s, like, a demon. His eyes glowed red, I swear. I was just waiting… for you guys. For Sapnap to come back, and he ambushed me. Just came for me. He said he wanted my life.” 

Sapnap chirped, stilling wiping his arm down, “but he didn’t get it. I’d consider that a win.” 

“He only didn’t because you guys showed up at the last moment. He would’ve killed me.” He flinched as Sapnap wrapped his arm up, it was tight. So fucking tight.

“Still, a win nonetheless.” George chimed in. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about your eye. Your hair’s all bloody as well. We need to get you home. I’ll come up with a cream or something to help it heal there.”

So, they carried him home. And Dream thought to himself, like a mantra in his head: “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. Pathetic. I am pathetic.”

He should’ve fought back. Harder. He should’ve been swifter, should’ve thrust his sword through the masked man's chest. But he didn’t. And for that, he found himself pathetic. 

George and Sapnap cared for him, helping him clean his scars daily, helping him work the muscle in his arm again. 

  
“Your pain is ours to share,” George had said. Oh, how he held on to those words dearly.

  
He touched the scars every day once they began to heal. His first ones of many, though he wasn’t aware of this. The nerves in his face were (and still are) fucked beyond repair. Synapses broken, unmoving. Half his mouth didn’t work. 

So he adopted his mask, clay and stone carved and painted white, with a smile. He refused to take it off around anyone who wasn’t George or Sapnap. He became a new, more cautious version of his previous self. But he wasn’t cautious enough.

**Author's Note:**

> tone indicators are appreciated when commenting! (/j, /lh, /srs, /s, /nm etc!). i’m autistic and have a hard time reading tone !! kudos is also appreciated !! thank you so much :)


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